


Let Your Past Die

by clumsycopy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Choking, Come Eating, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Face-Fucking, Inappropiate Use of a Lightsaber, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Sith Kylo Ren, Sith Master & Apprentice Relationship(s), virgin!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29412132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clumsycopy/pseuds/clumsycopy
Summary: You took Kylo Ren’s hand. Joined him in the darkness, yet you remain with a foot into the light. The Commander takes it upon himself to bind you to him, once and for all.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Let Your Past Die

Kylo Ren sits across from you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d believe he was indeed there. It’s subtle, but you see how his body fades into the darkness, how the white walls of his chambers flash behind him from time to time.

The raging fire on the ground casts warm, dancing shadows inside the hut. He shifts in his stone seat, nudging an ember with his foot, producing a burst of golden sparkles that tickle your face. You lower one hand at your side, grabbing the edge of your bench; the other tilts up, fingers curling, beckoning your lightsaber to fly to your extended palm.

It never does.

Ren’s cowl falls to his shoulder as he leans closer. “I can show you the ways of the Force. Skywalker will disappoint you. So will the General.”

His words resonate with a portion of yourself you had been trying to suppress. “How generous of you, Ren. I’m sure your friendly warning is unbiased. Why would I ever care for it? You’re a monster,” you sneer.

“Yes, I am,” he replies.

Recoiling from him, your gaze flickers across the circular hut, searching for your weapon. “I’ll never join you. You killed Han Solo-”

“Han Solo can’t _save_ you now.” Leaping to his feet, cape waving behind him, Kylo shows you his palm, revealing your lightsaber within it. “This doesn’t belong to you. It’s scrap from a lesser era.”

Stepping closer, you sneer, “Maybe, but I find that it serves me well..”

He uses the hilt to lift your chin. “Does it? Don’t you ever feel you’re being torn apart while wielding it?”

“Stop trying to corrupt me with your vile morals.” Yanking the lightsaber from his grasp, you flick it on, and a column of blue rises.

“Strike me down, and you’ll only prove I’m right. You know you can’t hurt me. Not here. But you want to, don’t you? Good. _Do it_.”

His words slaughter your anger, tearing it in little pieces of shame. You shouldn’t be this quick to enrage, this unbalanced, this eager to let your wrath loose. “I won’t fall into your game. You won’t get into my head.”

But he already is.

Throwing your lightsaber over your thin cot, you watch as it bounces and lands into a shadowed corner. As you turn back towards him, your mouth draws into a tight line.

“So lonely you can’t sleep. Lying on your bed, wide awake, mind searching for answers no one will give you.” He tilts his head to the side. “I feel it too. The deception. You _know_ there’s something they’re not telling you.”

“Stop,” you hiss, trying to conceal the brittleness of your voice.

He hounds you, body just about brushing against yours in the cramped space. “The General could have told you from the start that I was her son.”

Shaking your head, you stare at the fire. “She didn’t have to.”

“Does lying to yourself make you feel better?” he drawls. “She waited… until she knew you weren’t going to back out. Such a vile thing, roping you in with stories of a son she never truly had. You can’t save Ben Solo.”

Looking away, you let your gaze flicker to the dying fire. “I won’t listen to you. You’re lying to me too and you want to kill me. I know I’m a threat to you and your Supreme Leader.”

“No. I want you to join me… and _I-_ ” His hands curl into fists. “-won’t lie to you.”

You want to, you need him to be wrong; casting all rational thought out of the window, you deny his words, plunging into the tenet you had been taught: he is the enemy and therefore he can’t be right.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you sit back down on the stone, shrinking into yourself. “I don’t believe you.”

Kylo mirrors your action, assuming the same position as before, across the fire. He cocks his head into the direction where the unaware Jedi lies asleep, several feet below on the mountainside. “Skywalker never told you about the time he tried to kill me, did he?”

“Because you tried to kill him. Because you slaughtered the Jedi temple! Burned it to the ground!” Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, the collar of your sleep shirt feels tight, too tight, a noose around your neck.

He folds his hand over his lap. “Impressive. Every word you’ve just said is wrong.”

You stiffen, hands clamped over the hem of your shirt. “What happened, then?”

A shudder runs through his body. “He saw within me an echo of what he had seen in my grandfather and decided to put an end to it, to not let history repeat itself. He’s so honorable, trying to kill me in my sleep.”

“Master Luke wouldn’t,” you whisper, face becoming blank.

“He’s a coward. Pinning his failures on me, on Snoke. He’s the only one to blame. Don’t flatter yourself, he’ll do the same to you.” His tone is urgent, cynical, the bite of his wording divulging his rancor.

Shaking your head, you double down on your misguided beliefs, “He wouldn’t, I’m not being called into the darkness like he said _you were_.”

Sprawling on his seat, he leans his forearms over his knees. “I’m his blood and he still failed me. To him, you’re nothing, but not to me.”

The raw, honest admission scares you far more than you’d like to admit. You can deal with being his opponent, destined to kill each other, but _this_ is something far different. “I don’t want to be anything to you but your enemy.”

He inches forward, knees bumping into yours. “You’re not strong enough to be any threat to me. I’ll strike you down alongside with the Resistance if you refuse to see reason. I’m here to give you a chance of rising to your true destiny. You need me, despite trying so hard to deny it. Join me.”

“I shouldn’t,” you plead, more to yourself than to him. There’s no stopping the inevitable now, it’s as if a switch had flipped into another direction, you’re just going through the motions of presenting whatever reluctance is expected of you. Raising your gaze to meet Ren’s visor, your lower lip quivers, quiet breaths wisping out of your slackened mouth.

He reaches out, arm extending towards you, the tips of his fingers on the imminence of touching yours. “Take my hand.”

===

“Faster. More intense. _Again_.” Kylo whirls around, tattered cape fluttering behind him. Each of his powerful footsteps echo right inside your skull, sound thrumming across your spine. He drags the tip of his lightsaber against the ground, carving a charred path on the durasteel tiles.

Controlling your jagged breathing, you raise your weapon, body copying the same fighting stance as your Master’s. Ataru. The aggression form. _It fits him. Master Ren makes it look so natural. Effortless. I wish I could-_

“Focus!” He growls, stomping out the distance between you. Striking from above, he pushes your guard back with almost no resistance, bringing both his and your lightsabers inches away from your face.

Gritting your teeth, you push up with your last rush of strength, trying to curb the Force to make you stronger as it did before.

_Why can’t I do it like I used to?_

Blue and red light mesh, imbuing an ethereal glow to the scene, bouncing off the chrome details of Kylo Ren’s helmet. Above the shrill, ear-splitting wail of his lightsaber, his voice stands out: “What a disappointment.”

He gains the upper hand, shattering your guard and coils a hand around your neck, fingers crushing your jaw.

“I should have the Knights fight you after I’m done, but I don’t think you’d pose any challenge for them. A fighting droid would provide more resistance. Deplorable.” The room is plunged into thick darkness when both of you deactivate your lightsabers. Shuffling back, Kylo releases your throat, staring for a moment at the hand that had been holding you.

Shuffling backwards, you fight to restrain the vile shame of your lack of progress, your inability to counter your Master. The last thing you need is to be stuck in your head, trapped in a chasm of thoughts that will get you nowhere. In the dark, you can’t see him save for a faint glint that might be the chrome slots of his mask. Yet you feel him, a deeper abyss in the shadows, staring right back at you. There’s still a lingering resonance inside your mind--of him--the final note of a song, echoing forever.

“I feel your anger. Your fear. Desire.” His voice is wavers in intensity as he paces back and forth. “That’s not enough… You can’t just _want_ what the dark side offers. You must take it. When that happens, you’ll sense it in every fiber of your being, to the bone, it’s raw, untamed pleasure washing over your body. Surely you’ve felt something _similar_ before.”

The pill lights flicker back on, throwing you off for a moment as you shield your eyes from the harsh glow. _What does he mean?_ When it dawns on you, warmth blooms across your face, spreading through the tips of your ears. It’s unsettling, intriguing to have Commander Ren allude to that type of pleasure, bringing forth a facet of him you’d never thought of. 

In a second your mind is taken by images of him, of Kylo Ren with a hand splayed across the transparisteel viewport of his chambers, the other coiled around his cock, jerking off in earnest, chasing the ‘ _something similar’_.

You want to, but you can’t relate or understand any of it, you’ve never-

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Kylo hisses through his vocoder, the sound splintering into static as his pitch deepens.

A flush crept up your face. “Master, I’m-”

He cuts you off, hate dripping from the modulated cadence of his voice. He saunters towards you, discarding his cowl. “Save your pitiful apologies. You have yet to prove to me that training you is not a mistake. Maybe you’d fare better amongst the Resistance scum.”

“No! I’ll show you it wasn’t a mistake. I respect your teachings, your guidance, everything that you offer me. All I want is to live up to it, and to serve under your command.” _To serve you._ Clenching your jaw, your lips part and close several times as you search for a way--any way--of saying it. “I can’t relate to what you said about raw, untamed pleasure. I never- I don’t know- I don’t know what it feels like.”

He curls two fingers on his left hand and paralysis overtakes your body, save for your eyes.

“You’ve never had an orgasm.” Neither a question or a statement, his tone drips skepticism. “Not even by your own hand?”

Unsure of how you can answer, given that you’re unable to move, you reach out to Kylo, through the emerging thread in the Force that binds you. It’s daunting to bare yourself to him, as if you’re letting a flaming abyss engulf you, only being able to withstand a few seconds before you’re obliterated to ashes.

He reaches out, large hand splayed in front of him, his ardent, harsh presence already blazing through the bridge that connects you. In no time, his power and strength force you to retreat, as he already crosses the edges of your mind. 

A chill creeps down your spine, spreading throughout your body, to the sore areas where your skin is marked with bruises, gashes, the evidence of your failures to rise up to your training. Pain flourishes in those wounds, in a way you’ve never felt before. There’s something else, threaded in the discomfort. Whatever it is, you want to let go to it.

Gaze tethered to his menacing form, your vision starts to flicker and fade as your mind fights to accommodate him, the smallest part of you opposing the unnatural invasion. In contrast, each speck of stardust on your body screams a wordless plea for him to make your ineptitude vanish, to reach into the innermost confines of your mind and shatter those, so you can rebuild stronger than before.

“You show no respect to this training, to the mercy the First Order granted when _I_ allowed you under our protection. When I saved _you_ from being poisoned by Skywalker’s lies. I have high expectations of you… so does the Supreme Leader.”

Drawing in a long breath, you look for a glimpse of compassion in the inhuman mask. You’d be far more successful in searching speck of dust in outer space instead. His gaze bears nothing but an eternal fire fueled by his rage--ardor that’s now directed at you.

"You still wonder about him." His tone is so bitter that you can picture the frown on his unknown face with ease.

"About who?"

"Don't lie to _me_! You never knew Ben Solo, and you never will." A fuse blows a few feet behind him, sparks cascading to the floor.

Your shoulders slump. "I know-"

"Do you?", he sneers, crumpling the collar of your robe into his fist, "Then why do you insist on clinging to those futile, non-existent attachments? You… you're afraid."

Cowering from him, you shuffle back. "I'm afraid of failing."

Warmth scatters through your flesh as your limbs are released, now weighing you down.

"No, that's not it." He reaches around you, coasting the tips of his fingers across your lower back. "You’re afraid of having made the wrong choice. Skywalker can't save you now. You’re nothing to him."

“He-”

“Won’t ever care about you again, and he never did. He wasn’t your family and will kill you if given the chance, or better yet, train another fool to do so. He had… conjectures... about the scavenger.”

Picking a piece of lint from your sleeve, you murmur, “He told me I was the last person he’d ever teach.”

“You don’t need him. No one does. You have me and _I’ll_ show you the dark side.” He releases the grip on your collar, then jerks his hand--hurling and keeping you pinned to the opposite wall.

Kylo curls his fingers and your belt snaps open, falling to the ground. He saunters closer, palms finding their way to your waist as he leans into you more and more, until you can’t breathe without pressing yourself up against his broad chest. His mask tilts down as he surveys your shuddering form, hands creeping up your torso, searching for the seam that runs down the middle of your robes.

Once he finds it, he shreds the fabric apart, pulling a whimper from you as the frigid air makes contact with your warm skin. The Commander drags his fingers across your back, aligning the leather seams of his gloves with the length of your spine; one hand moves up, settling at the back of your neck, while the other roams down your lower back, teasing the waistband of your pants.

He tugs the black, coarse garment down your arms, off your body. After undressing your upper half, he stops for a moment, visor fixed on your chest.

Humming, Kylo drags his knuckles across your bare skin, tracing your sternum, and then pinching a nipple between his thumb and index finger. He inhales a sharp breath at the way you gasp, eyes widening in surprise, body writhing under his hold. Rolling the now stiff peak, he cups your other breast with his free hand, kneading the pliant flesh.

Your breath falls in heavy, short puffs as you writhe under his gasp. Each time he tweaks his fingers, a bolt of pleasure dashes through your body.

He squeezes both nipples hard, tugging them away from your body, watching as your lower lip quivers, tears springing at the corners of your eyes. Ren jolts forward, bucking his hips into yours, pressing the hardened bulge under his robes into you. "Tell me what you feel."

"Bliss. Like I’m melting. When you squeeze them harder, it hurts… and I-" you glance up to the ceiling, unable to keep going.

"Do you like when your Master punishes you?" he laughs, before releasing his tight hold on your breasts, teasing your lower lip with his digits.

Your mouth falls open at the slight pressure, and soon two large fingers coast across your tongue, sliding back and forth. Gagging at the intrusion, this only beckons him to reach deeper, pressing on the sensitive area at the back of your throat. Your lips clamp on the smooth leather of the Commander’s glove, teeth biting down as you swallow around his digits.

He pulls his hand out, followed by a wet, squelching noise, a curved thread of saliva connecting your lips to his now glistening leather glove. 

You take a few hushed breaths, chest heaving, but before you have any more time to wonder what he will do next, Kylo pushes his fingers in the tight wetness of your mouth, adding a third one this time. 

Ren thrusts faster. Harder, rattling your head as he fucks your throat. “Let’s try something different.”

A heavy blaster floats out of its notch on the wall, spinning in your direction and shooting at your head.

Grounding your thoughts, you tighten your hand into a fist, eyes shooting open just as the bolt stands a few inches away from you. A frown etches across your face and you hurl the plasma bolt to the opposite corner of the training quarters, exerting enough control to keep it floating, intact, inches away from colliding with the other wall.

Kylo cants his head down, nudging the vocoder of his helmet on the crook of your neck and shoulder, sound thrumming at the shell of your ear, “ _This_ is what I’m looking for, my apprentice.” 

You whine around his hand, euphoric at the praise you earned.

Grunting, he yanks his wrist off, stiffening when your hands snap to his sleeve, fingers skimming under the fabric in search of the edge of his glove.

When you touch his bare flesh, he steps back, binding your arms behind your back with the Force, using it to sink you to your knees before him. “You won’t do this again,” he grits out, words slow and clipped. “For someone who waited a long time, you’re too impatient.”

Looking up at Kylo Ren, you wonder how many enemies were slain in the same position you’re in, if the last thing they ever saw was the lethal red glow of his double-crossed lightsaber, the unnerving helmet that reveals nothing about the creature beneath it.

You see something different. 

Power. Bloodcurdling ferocity. Someone who can tame the entire Galaxy. The future Supreme Leader, or maybe the Emperor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his left hand balling into a fist and a soft noise of static reaches your ears. Kylo’s mask inclines to the side for a second, and even though you can’t know for certain where his gaze lies, you’re _sure_ he’s looking at you.

“Treacherous thoughts are a fast way to find yourself at the wrong end of a lightsaber. If the Supreme Leader senses a wisp of disloyalty…” His voice rings even lower, rumbling deep inside your chest.

“Master Ren, I’m loyal. I’ll never stray from your teachings,” you plead, hoping he understands you’d never do anything to betray him, or sour his standing with Supreme Leader Snoke.

“Won’t you?” he drawls.

“Never.”

The thought of betraying Kylo Ren is so unnatural that it pains you to even conceive it. A tear glides down your cheek as you picture such an agonising scenario.

He cups half your face within his massive hand, swiping the wetness away with his thumb.

At this point, you’re not above pleading and begging, crying for him to show you how it feels, to allow you to experience a modicum of his power; for him to take anything he wants--you’ll give him everything--and tell you he’s pleased with your improvement.

“We’ll see how true your resolve is.”

He cradles the back of your neck in his large palm, guiding your head closer to his body, while he unties the thick belt at his waist. His throbbing cock stirs beneath his robes, begging to be set free--he’s been hard since he’s learned he would be your first, and only.

Kylo shifts his clothing just enough to release his aching length, hissing at how sensitive it is, how big it looks compared to you, he knows it’s going to be a tight fit. Tapping it against your cheek, he paints a few wet, creamy spots of precum on your skin. 

Your eyes flicker from Master Ren’s mask to his dick, struggling to process how he won’t show you his face, but has no issue baring himself to you. Not that you mind at the moment, as you stare at it, gaze panning across its length, commiting to your memory the veins that run on the underside of his shaft, how _soft_ the skin looks, the gorgeous pink gradient that turns into an angry red at the tip. Even without being able to measure it against something you can compare--such as your hands--you know it’s big, everything about Kylo Ren surpasses the average, why would this be any different?

Letting your mouth fall open, you watch, mesmerized as he propels his cock in, gliding across your waiting, slick tongue. You hum in surprise at the sheer girth of him, the sound vibrating across his thick shaft as he occupies every available space, yet struggles to plunge deeper, to the point your teeth scrape against the velvet-smooth skin of his length.

Kylo hisses, “Open wider.”

Heeding his command, you relax your jaw, feeling it approach the point of unhinging as Ren sinks further, knocking the breath out of you. Everytime you inhale and exhale, you swallow around his unforgiving width, throat bulging to accommodate it.

You don’t miss the frenzied thrill that runs through you, pooling straight into your cunt. Knowing that the Commander of the First Order is losing a shred of his composure because of you, of whatever effect you have on him elicits a novel craving. Whatever it is, you want _more_.

With a strangled grunt, he settles as far as he can go, nuding your nose and forehead against the hard planes of his navel. He uses a hand to further undo his fly and lower his pants, letting his heavy balls bounce against your chin. 

Twitching at the unfamiliar contact, you whine around him, throat fluttering around the spongy head of his cock, pulling a garbled string of noises from Commander Ren’s vocoder.

“You take me so well.” He begins to piston in and out, filling the room with the wet, gurgling noises he elicits from your strained throat. “If only you learned everything as well as _this_.” At that, he rams into your mouth, both of his hands gripping the sides of your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

Your protest at his remark is useless as no words can come out of you, becoming instead an incomprehensible, wicked moan.

“Have something to say?” he sneers. “Do you think I’m wrong? _Prove it_.”

With a sharp flick of his hand--that soon resumes holding your head in place--a trio of blasters detach from their slots on the wall, shooting a fast round of bolts, aimed right at you.

To your surprise, all of them hover a good few feet away, kept in place with confidence, by _your_ doing. The first one remains at the distant corner of the room, showcasing the fine-tuned control you’re exerting on it. 

“This shouldn’t fit, it’s so tight-” Kylo rasps, propelling into your gaping mouth in shallow, agonizing thrusts, his grip stiffening, fingers digging into your skin.

Soon he’s making as much noise as you, grunting in the baritone rumble of his modulated voice, panting pure static as he starts moving with raging speed. His shaft is coated in glistening layers of your saliva mixed with this abundant precum, sliding with ease over your tongue.

You’re so full, he’s settled so deep, that you can’t stop swallowing around him, lapping at the underside of his length, feeling a thicker, throbbing vein. Focusing on that area, you find that his rhythm falters when you flatten your tongue against that sensitive spot. The sight of him, standing over you, an anthracite behemoth, coming apart almost makes you lose your budding control over the blaster bolts.

Yanking his aching, tender cock from your perfect throat, he starts jerking it with a furious pace, cupping one hand right under the red, swollen tip as he spurts thick, abundant ropes of cum, its pearlescent color contrasting with the black leather of his glove. It almost flows out of his palm, enough fluid to fill his cupped hand almost all the way. It sloshes around when he drops to a knee, his free hand pressing the corners of your jaw until it opens for him, pliant and receptive.

“This,” he starts, showing you his spend, “is your Commander’s, your Master’s cum. It is _mine_ and you will take all of it. Understood?”

Your head bobs up and down, gaze fixed on his hand. “Yes, Master Ren.”

His breathing is low, strangled as he brings his palm to your lips, making sure they’re lined up before he cants his wrist and feeds you his load. He could stand forever here, watching the thick fluid cascade into your mouth, a few errant drops flowing down your chin. Blood rushes to his throbbing length every time he remembers you’ve never taken part on any of this, except with him.

Staring at Kylo, at wherever you picture his eyes must be, your breathing slows down to a gentle sway, yet your heart beats faster at the intimate nature of this act. It seems you’ve crossed some boundary you hadn’t known existed, but somehow has changed everything. You never thought you’d _taste_ Master Ren, you don’t understand why he opted for this unorthodox training method but why would he do this if he does not have some kind of _hope_ for you?

A great question. For another time.

Your gaze softens as you dare to stick your tongue out, licking the stubborn drips of cum that insist in sticking to his hand, tasting the perfect blend of him and the earthy flavour of leather. More viscous spend trickles from his fingers, dripping into your mouth as Kylo pulls his hand away, dragging his knuckles across your chin and wiping off the excess onto your skin.

“Perfect.” He swipes his thumb over your lip.

The praise releases fireworks at the bottom of your stomach, fiery butterflies that tap their wings and make your heart soar with contentment. You fight back a smile and your focus oscillates for a moment too long.

Sparks explode as the frozen blaster bolts resume their trajectory, missing you by an inch. Destroyed panels behind you clatter to the floor, skidding across the tiles with a booming noise. The sound pales in comparison to the rush of blood thrumming at your temple, to how your distressed heartbeat rises to an unbearable volume.

“There’s still light in you.” Kylo’s guttural voice is laced with disappointment, trembling past his modulator, ringing inside your head. “It’s time to let old things die.”

As he rises to his feet, fixing his clothing, his index finger grazes your cheek, the stiff seam of his glove kindling goosebumps on your skin.

You crane your neck to look up at him, jaw slackened, agitated breaths rolling out of your mouth. “How, Master Ren? I want to, but I don’t know _how_.”

“Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to. That's the only way to become what you are meant to be,” he answers, shuffling closer to you, the tips of his boots nudging your knees.

“Show me, Master. Show me how,” you plead.

He extends his arm to the side, fingers curved and ready to catch the silver hilt that flies into his palm. “Stand,” he orders.

As you obey, albeit on quivering legs, he coaxes your lightsaber to float before you, just out of reach.

“You know what you have to do. I know you have the strength to do it.” He trudges over to stand behind you, his presence seeping into your senses like a flare.

Extending your palm, your fingers are close enough to delve the sleek surface of the hilt, a jolt lurching up your arm at the contact. Closing your eyes, you reach out, seeking the echo of the kyber crystal, the choir of voices from your past. They rise to a screech, in an last attempt to sway you to the light, to a side that’s just as broken, yet refuses to see it.

No more.

Clenching your jaw, you feel past the inner makings of the lightsaber, tearing every connector, wire and bolt, destroying the last beacon of your errant past, exposing the blue crystal. It falls into your palm, steam rolling out of its sharp edges, flickering in rich tones of cobalt and cyan. The light begins to fade, turning to a bleak shade of cold grey. 

"Now," he mouths against your temple, hand squeezing your hip, "you can transform in who you're meant to be. In time, I will teach you to bleed the crystal."

“Thank you, Master Ren.”

Remaining silent, he plucks the gem from your palm, depositing it on the inner pocket of his robes. “Undress and lie down on the ground.”

You’re quick to discard whatever is left of your clothing and lie flat on your back, shivering under the low temperature of the training area.

He unclips his weapon and for a moment your heart explodes, fearing that you’ve failed and he’s going to end you once and for all. To your surprise he turns the hilt to the opposite side and the double guards face away from your body. His hand masks the true size of the lightsaber. As it comes closer to you, only then you take a good look at it, at how long and ridged and sharp it is, with its unfinished surface, exposed wires and jagged edges.

The Commander’s weapon is unstable, unpredictable, on the edge of imploding at any moment, much like him. It’s kept together by his sheer will and unwavering determination.

Kylo contemplates the hilt in his palm, eyebrows drawn together in deep thought. The fingers of his left hand glide across the length of the weapon, lingering on its sharpest peaks, areas that could cut one’s skin. He allows himself a ghost of a smile before directing his attention to your enthralled form. He takes pleasure in your struggle, the conflict; knowing that you’re fighting not to succumb to the Jedi’s corrupted teachings, eager to see you arise stronger.

“Spread your legs for me.” Humming at your near-instant response, he takes note at how _much_ you crave his acceptance. He can use that, he will guide you. The trail of thought splits when he sees the soaked, wet sheen that’s coating your pussy, dripping across your inner thighs, trickling on the floor. His voice is rough, strained as he whispers, “You’re drenched.”

Swallowing a lump on your throat, you furrow your eyebrows. “Is that bad, Master Ren?”

He says nothing, boots scraping on the ground as he kneels, reaching out with his free hand and tracking the tips of his digits across your clit. Kylo relishes in the way he listens to your breath catch on your throat, the way your thighs clench, toes curling in response to his touch. Using two fingers, he glides them up and down your cunt, lathering them in your overflowing wetness. When he’s satisfied, he lifts his wrist to your eye-level, making sure you can see the evidence of your beguiling desire for your Master.

Your eyes widen at the sight and the sheer quantity of it, oozing down his knuckles and falling between the valley of your breasts.

Ren deposits his lightsaber over your stomach, turning the emitter towards you. “Don’t move.”

He presses a notch on the lower edge of his helmet and it opens halfway through, unshrouding some of the lower portion of his face; his chin and large, plump lips. The Commander brings his coated fingers to his mouth--revealing a row of dazzling, crooked teeth--and sucks on them, producing obscene, slobbering noises. He lets out a jubilant, moan, gracing your ears with the natural timbre of his voice.

The lascivious noise sends a tremor down your spine, coaxing more arousal from you, so much more that you feel it leaking out, cascading the slopes of your inner thighs.

“So rude of me not to offer you a taste,” he mocks. Removing the fingers from his mouth--a thread of spit still clinging onto them--he’s quick to shove them between your lips.

Slurping on them, your mouth drools at the profane taste of you and him.

“No one will give you what you desperately want. You need to go after, no matter who stands in the way,” he says, pulling his fingers out and cupping your chin, holding your gaze for a moment.

Taking his weapon from where it rests on top of you, he herds you to stand over your hands and knees.

Once he releases his hold, you let your head hang down for a few heartbeats, trying to regain some clarity. It comes when you feel his body hovering behind you, and a sharp pressure against your pussy. A foreign object stretches you apart, taking the very breath out of your lungs. Metal bites at your inner thighs and you gasp when you realize what it is.

Inhaling a deep breath, you crane your neck up, only to find him halfway across the sprawling room. 

He curls two fingers, beckoning you to join him.

Every ridge of the Commander’s lightsaber makes themself present even while you’re still, and you can’t imagine what they’ll feel like once you begin to move. _Master Ren is right. I need to take it, to truly let go of the way of the Jedi._

Attempting to stand, you find impossible for your legs to sustain you, crumbling to the ground on your hands and knees. When you start to worm your way to him it’s hard to keep a coherent trail of thought. Every gentle sway of your hips pushes the immense hilt deeper, causing the crossguards to bite at the pliant flesh atop your thighs.

“That’s it,” he coos, “crawl to me.”

Stopping every once in a while to catch your breath and still your mind, you become more and more overpowered by a mounting pressure inside your core, a place you can’t quite point your _where_ it is, but you can feel it throbbing and sending consuming waves of pleasure that ripple throughout your body. Your movements begin to stagger until you’re struggling through each and every step.

You let out a strained whine when the lightsaber slides out, scraping against your fluttering walls. It teases your entrance, before embedding itself again, causing you to release a string of hissed curses. Not understanding what this sinful hunger that clouds your senses is, you assume you need to fight it.

“No. You’re still holding on. Let go.” He steps closer, taking your jaw in between his fingers, guiding you to lie on your back. Kylo hovers over you, taking the lightsaber into his hand and ramming it into your heat. He’s looking for the moment when your eyes will glaze over--your pupils a void and your irises the stars that only he can see. “That’s it, _this_ is the feeling you’re looking for.”

You watch his lips move, hear a distant echo that you’re supposed to process into words, but everything is a little off, in the wrong order, in unintelligible volume, impossible to understand. Everything but the hot, blazing pleasure that threatens to reduce you to ashes. Looping your arms around his neck, you cling to his body, searching for an anchor to tether you to this plane of existence. You settle your cheek over the crook of his neck and shoulder, burrowing your face on the coarse fabric of his cowl. Closing your eyes, you bask in his warmth, daring to press a few timid kisses to his clothed flesh.

Shuddering at the contact, Kylo grunts, pulling you off his body and splaying his palm across your chest, pinning you to the floor; always gazing at you. He pistons the hilt in sharp, biting thrusts, spreading your thighs wider apart. Coasting his free hand across your flesh, he seeks every scar, every bruise, every etching that’s adorning your body, lingering on the ones that he has a memory of.

Cowering under his gaze, you have never felt more exposed--and it has nothing to do with your body.

He settles a forearm by your head, bringing his lips to your ear, warm breath fanning over your skin “Kill your past. Let go for me. Cum, _now_ ,” he growls, thrusting his lightsaber one last time; slow and deep.

It reaches a new depth, prodding against something within you that releases all the pressure, tears and pain, all that has been building to a volatile crescendo the entire night. "Master Ren-" you cry out, a crack splitting your voice.

"That’s it, that's it," Ren coos, gripping the crossguards and twisting the weapon inside you, doubling the intensity of your climax. "Give it all to _me_."

“Master Ren, please, I-” you plead, knowing you want more, you want him, words interrupted when an invisible force presses to your throat.

Wrapping both arms around you, he turns you over, keeping your face nudged against the icy tiles, back in a deep arch, ass up in the air. He moves his hand to push down on your shoulder blades, while the other frees his aching, leaking cock from its confines. In one swift motion, he yanks the oversized hilt out and rams his length into you in earnest.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, eyes rolling far back.

At last, Kylo presses on the notches that open his mask with a pneumatic hiss, letting the object thump to the ground, the hard sound echoing in the expansive room.

Your whole body trembles with the sheer fury of his thrusts, each snap of his hips causing your pliant flesh to ripple. The same coil as before tenses again, far faster, far tighter this time. It’s so much, too much, all you can do is cry out to him, announce your impending crash.

He grunts, "I know. Say my name when you cum for me again. The real one."

Assenting, your whole face scrunches up in resplendent pleasure, a staccato of moans leaving your parted lips. Your eyes snap open, widened when you realise he has unmasked himself. Squirming, you try to crane your neck to the side to gaze upon the man behind your fall and your rise, but a hand covers your eyes.

"Not now, ner ka'ra," he breathes. Eyes ablaze, his mouth falls open in a feral snarl, teeth showing while he fucks into you as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. 

It doesn’t take long for him to succumb to the same torment he inflicted upon you, balls tightening and releasing a torrent of his cum inside your aching cunt. He feels it flutter around him not that much later, pushing back his spend, making it leak around his shaft, trickle into the floor, mixed with your own release.

As your climax hits you, your fingers wrap around the column of his wrist, seeking the closest part of the Commander that’s within reach. Even while you’re lost in the rapid, pulsating delight that courses through your flesh, you melt into his touch, murmuring in a gentle voice, "Kylo, Kyl-, Ky!"

Tracing patterns on your back with his thumb, he groans your name and rakes two fingers over your temple, granting you the blessing of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I missed writing for Kylo so much! Look at me, trying to cram all my kinks into the same one-shot. Let me know what you thought of it, I'm deeply invested in it, I hope you liked it :3


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